


A Last Request

by xLostDreamsx



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Break Up, Emotional Hurt, Heavy Angst, M/M, Sad Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-09
Updated: 2015-05-09
Packaged: 2018-03-29 18:54:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3906973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xLostDreamsx/pseuds/xLostDreamsx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles shrugged his shoulders, mouth tight and curled in indifference.</p><p>And at that tiny gesture, that faded quiet motion, Derek felt like a thousand knives of ice had been shot at him severing his veins taking his life and leaving him with nothing. </p><p>They did passion, they did anger and love and violence, that was what defined them. </p><p>But never indifference.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Last Request

**Author's Note:**

> I was feeling sad so I wrote a sad story.
> 
> Initial idea inspired by the song 'Last Request' by Paolo Nutini.
> 
> _"Grant my last request,_   
>  _And just let me hold you._   
>  _Don't shrug your shoulders,_   
>  _Lay down beside me._   
>  _Sure I can accept that we're going nowhere,_   
>  _But one last time let's go there,_   
>  _Lay down beside me"_

The kitchen had started to go dark around them they’d been stood there so long, neither thinking to pull away from angry stares and accusations to do something as mundane as flick a light switch on. It was all the same old story and yet fresh hurts kept rising to the surface drawn from the harsh words being wielded, cutting at each other from a distance where they knew they could inflict the most damage.

Stiles’ voice had started to quieten with his replies, his fight slowly fading and that’s when Derek started to panic.

They’d always done this. Their relationship worked in cycles, periods of complete contentment where they’d barely want to leave each other’s sight, Stiles sleeping over as much as his dad would let him, gentle fingers always reaching out, just to touch, to be connected. But then things would start to itch, to rub and irritate. Derek would get tired of Stiles’ noise and disorganisation, he was so smart but would leave a wake of destruction behind him. And there was his ever present nasty habit of bending the truth to his favour when he knew that Derek wouldn’t be happy with what he’d really been doing that afternoon, as if he wouldn’t be able to smell who he’d been with or what dangers he’d been needlessly putting himself in front of.

Stiles would bite back with equal venom about Derek’s lack of communication, the way he would just cut Stiles out or become suddenly angry over the slightest things. They pushed and pulled, tearing into each other until they just fell towards each other again in a spiral of totally uncomplicated and predictable want. Their faces growing closer and closer as words spilled out, arms gesturing grandly until those arms were pulling each other in and the words became soft, quiet and loving.

It wasn’t particularly healthy and it usually wasn’t incredibly mature the way they constantly circled one another but it was them, it was their way of somehow working as a damaged and slightly odd couple and Derek could honestly never imagine wanting to be with anyone else again. Stiles was it for him and the idea of even trying again, of finding anyone who even understood him a fraction of the way Stiles did was unthinkable.

Which is why the way that Stiles’ voice was fading quieter and quieter as he hugged his arms to himself and seemed to be disappearing into the corner of the kitchen was freaking him out. In the gloomy light he was weakening visually but it was like actual pieces of him were now starting to melt away in front of his very eyes, the edges and lines that defined him disappearing. Derek stalked closer, raising his voice to try and get a reaction again, just something they could work off but Stiles just looked away, bit his lips and stared at the sink with tired eyes.

They stood in silence for a few minutes, just the clock ticking loudly on the wall, Derek clenching and unclenching his fists and heart thudding loudly as he waited for something. Waited to see that spark animate Stiles again so he could recognise the figure standing in front of him.

Stiles sighed and heaved himself upright from where he’d been leaning back on the kitchen counter. He took a steady breath and looked Derek directly in the eyes before moving to walk past him.

Derek felt his mouth drop, unable to take in that Stiles was leaving without having the last word, without fighting back and making Derek back down like he always did. This was all going wrong... they’d veered of script, what the hell did Stiles think he was doing?

“Stiles!” he barked, “where are you going? You can’t just leave, this isn’t done.”

Stiles turned, shoulders slumped as he gazed with weary eyes.

“Really Derek? How many times have we had this argument? How many more times do I have to tell you that you can trust me, that I can take care of myself? I just...I actually can’t do this anymore. I think I’m giving up... this is done... I’m done” he tailed off quietly.

Derek stared feeling all the blood drain from his face, his limbs growing heavy, his gut starting to churn in distress.

In all honesty he knew this would be the way it ended. Stiles would get tired of him one day and would leave him. He’d always known that the final road ahead was for him to wonder down alone, he may reach out occasionally to find a warm hand to hold, but ultimately, his path was a solitary one. He had just hoped... that somehow Stiles may have been strong enough to have fought through all the bullshit defences he put in his own way. But then why should he have to? He was so bright, so vivid and vital in such a bleak world, he should be soaring high away from the shackles of such a dark and damaged creature as he had become.

“Stiles... please don’t say that” he whispered, clinging onto the last vestiges of hope, the desperation bubbling in his blood threatening to over-spill at any minute.

“What do you want me to say Derek, what is there left?” Stiles breathed out wearily.

“I just... we can work through this, you know we can” he pleaded, hand reaching out blindly, “don’t you want that?”

Stiles shrugged his shoulders, mouth tight and curled in indifference.

And at that tiny gesture, that faded quiet motion, Derek felt like a thousand knives of ice had been shot at him severing his veins taking his life and leaving him with nothing.

They did passion, they did anger and love and violence, that was what defined them.

But never indifference.

There was never a time when one of them simply shrugged as if all emotion had been drained away and it was at that moment Derek knew they were done. There was no coming back from that. If the passion had gone, there was nothing to fight for and it broke him apart with a silent gaping pain in his chest as he struggled to understand how they’d finally reached this point.

He watched numbly as Stiles turned away and went to pull on his shoes. They’d been making spaghetti at the start of the evening which had long been forgotten about, sauce cold and congealed in the pan. Stiles was going to stay over tonight, he had some math homework he’d been struggling with that Derek had offered to try and help him with but all the text books were being shoved haphazardly into his bag.

He couldn’t even remember how the argument had started or what it had ultimately been about. It all seemed so pointless now but words can’t be taken back, he wished above all else that he could do that but he had no idea what he would replace them with.

Stiles sniffed heavily as he slowly made his way to the door, he paused and Derek took that as his last opportunity and he called out to him quietly.

“Stay.”

Stiles’ eyes looked huge in the dull light and he stared in almost dumb surprise as he started to shake his head.

Derek edged forward slightly, “Just tonight, _please_. Just stay one last time.”

Stiles sighed and tipped his head back to stare at the ceiling as if weighing up the decision. Derek didn’t move but he just couldn’t leave it at that, after all they’d been through and all the love and violence they’d shared, it could end like that. With an indifferent shrug.

Stiles looked for a second more, he sighed before nodding, the movement barely perceptible before dropping his bag to the floor.

Derek walked over to him and they both stood with heads lowered.

“You know it doesn’t change anything, this is still done. Don’t try and persuade me or I’ll leave.”

“Ok” Derek agreed quietly.

It wasn’t his place to try and get Stiles to change his mind anymore, he’d pushed too far like he knew he always would and he was just being selfish now. He just wanted to hold Stiles close and memorize him absolutely so he could hold him flawlessly in his heart and mind, his perfect boy that had been his for a time. Stiles had pulled his head above the water both metaphorically and literally on so many occasions now he’d lost count. It was truth to state he wouldn’t actually be alive without Stiles at this very moment in all the ways he’d always waded in to rescue him, even when he was fighting against it the whole time. But he knew it was time to let him go, to live and breathe without being held down by the weights that pulled on his soul.

But just one more time. One more night and he could do it.

Tentatively, unsure of if Stiles would let him, he brought hands up to cup his jaw, his thumbs smoothing gently at the skin there feeling the slight prickle of stubble. Stiles let him and with closed eyes allowed Derek to turn his face so he could look at him, take in each and every mark on his skin so he could commit it to memory with complete accuracy. He’d already mapped Stiles’ body a hundred times before, but never with the heavy knowledge of knowing that this would be the last.

Derek nuzzled in close, lips breathing heated air over Stiles ear making him shiver, he was always so sensitive there and Derek pressed a gentle kiss to the pale skin.

“ _I love you_ ” he whispered, “I love you, I love you, I love you” he repeated, voice cracking as tears neared the surface. He needed Stiles to know, if it was the last thing he ever heard, he had to tell him even if words could barely even convey the depth of feeling he held inside, he needed to say it. He wondered if he was being unfair when he felt Stiles tremble under his hands but he couldn’t stop the desperate words tumbling out his mouth as he dragged his lips over his warm skin, memorising each detail as he went.

Stiles reached warm hands to hold against Derek’s arm to steady himself in place as he let Derek roam over his skin, breathing in deep before brushing his lips over him, “I’m sorry” he whispered desperately. Stiles just ducked his head and clenched his eyes tightly closed, Derek kissed the lids with reverence as he ran shaking fingers down the side of his face. He gripped a hand under his chin to raise his face up and took in each fine detail before him, the pale freckled skin, the angular jaw, the soft brown hair tumbling over his forehead, he wanted to hold this forever and he took it all in carefully.

Stiles refused to open his eyes, just allowing himself be manhandled and Derek could feel a growing desperation rise in him, he could tell that Stiles was bringing the walls down against him, was closing him out with each second that passed and he had never been on the receiving end of this. He was always the one closing people out and he never realised the pain it could bring, sharp and agonising deep at the centre of the chest.

He leaned in, his nose rubbing at Stiles’ before bringing his lips to cover his. The touch was soft and barely there and he couldn’t tell if it was him that was trembling or Stiles, he pressed down and felt the give before pressing small kisses again and again to that perfect mouth that had never felt as alien as it did right now. Stiles wasn’t pulling away but he was barely reciprocating and when he felt wetness mingle with the touches he was inflicting, he realised with a jolt that they were Stiles’ tears and he yanked himself away to stare in horror at the way Stiles’ face was crumpling into sorrow.

Stiles dropped his hands and ran clumsy fists over his eyes to wipe away the tears and Derek could feel his own welling at the sight.

“I’m _sorry_ ” he whispered again, voice wrecked.

Stiles shook his head and stared at his, his eyes red and watery, “Don’t. Just... don’t. If you want me to stay, don’t say anything more.”

They were still stood by the door, Stiles with his packed bag at his feet and Derek realised just how easy it would still be for Stiles to pick it up and leave.

He nodded in agreement, “Ok.”

He took a heaving breath and stared into the darkness of the apartment before looking back at the slender figure standing with uncertainty before him, he’d never seen Stiles look unsure in his life. He reached out a hesitant hand, “It’s late, come to bed.”

Stiles swallowed hard and exhaled shakily before sliding his hand lightly into Derek’s. Derek tightened his fingers around his before leading them both over to the bed and separating them so he could get undressed. He turned and stripped off his shirt and jeans, his buckle hitting the hardwood floor with an echoing clatter in the quiet space.

Stiles was silent behind him and as he turned to lay down on the bed, he saw him watching carefully, eyes heavy on Derek like he was analysing the situation. He eventually turned away to toe off his shoes again before gazing furtively at the bed. His fingers came to play at the zipper of his hoodie and after a moment he unzipped it fully and shrugged it off before moving to sit on the edge of the bed. Derek lay frozen, just waiting. His back was held rigid, the sharp lines of his shoulder blades casting shadows over his slender back as he sat staring at god knows what.

He finally glanced over his shoulder, eyes falling over Derek’s stiff body. He gave a soft sigh before shuffling back and lying down on his side, curled away from Derek, his whole frame still fraught with tension as he held himself in place. He was still wearing his shirt and jeans and Derek recognised he was ready to leave at any moment if needed.

Derek waited to see if Stiles would relax and maybe move towards him at all but after five minutes of strained inertia, he realised it wasn’t going to happen. He was barely able to tell who the harsh breathing that echoed around the loft belonged to, they were both in such a state of contained distress.

Slowly, Derek moved forward and gently made to wrap an arm around Stiles’ waist, giving him the chance to pull away if needed. His body edged forward as Stiles allowed the movement and he lined up as closely to him as possible without touching him excessively. If there was to be any point to Stiles staying, he needed to get his fill and he couldn’t do that if there were miles of mattress separating them. Stiles did not yield to Derek’s touch, his muscles firmly contracted like he was determined to not give one millimetre. Typical Stiles Derek thought sadly. Neither of them were great at compromise and it seemed to typify them entirely that their last physical connection would be a battle of wills.

Derek made a soft sound as he dipped his head to rest his nose at the nape of Stiles’ neck, just breathing in the soft comforting scent of him, his nails dragging lightly across the shirt on Stiles’ stomach as he fought to not just pull him in as tight as possible. Stiles dipped his face into the pillow he was laid on and Derek made himself relax the hand he had holding him.

They lay motionless for a long while, time seeming to have stopped as Derek clung to the night hours never wanting it to pass as the first rays of light above the horizon would mean Stiles leaving and he could barely comprehend that right now. He didn’t sleep, couldn’t and didn’t want to. He felt himself drifting into a light slumber a couple of times, lulled by Stiles’ soft breathing when he had eventually managed to drop off, but he would jerk himself back to wakefulness as soon as he remembered why he was so scared to let go of Stiles.

Sometime in the early hours of the morning when he heard the dawn chorus of birds coming to life outside the window, a few solitary tears escaped from behind his eyelids and fell, some dropping into the delicate skin of Stiles’ bared neck. We watched, mouth twisted as the drops slowly slid over the pale freckled skin and dampened the neck of his t-shirt. He watched the slow rise and fall as Stiles slept on unaware, the shifts behind his eyes as he dreamt, the twitches of his hands as he moved through whatever unconscious land his mind had created for him.

As the loft started to lighten, Derek turned his head towards the glowing sky and felt his throat constrict, he tried to take deep breaths but felt like his chest was being held in a vice. He’d barely moved his body all night, so scared to move away from Stiles that he felt his muscles scream in discomfort but he ignored it and held his palm firmly against the warm skin he was allowed to hold to him this one last time.

He cursed the rays of sun that hit the bed and made their slow progression over the white sheets. Stiles had always moaned at Derek’s lack of window coverings but Derek had always liked feeling as if the outside was a part of his living space and didn’t want to shut it out. He wished above all else that he’d listened for once so that he could shut the sun allowing him to keep Stiles wrapped in his arms forever, denying that the night had ever turned to day.

He knew when Stiles was stirring, felt his limbs start to flex and twitch, his breathing starting to quicken as his consciousness rose to the surface again. He flipped onto his back and stretched out long, arms above his head, feet disappearing off the end of the bed as the sun washed over him. His t-shirt rode up on his stomach and for a second, he looked like he was going to curl towards Derek and bury his face in his neck as he would normally do.

But this wasn’t a normal morning and a moment later, Derek saw recognition dawn as Stiles remembered. His eyes shot open as he blinked away his bleariness and he gazed over to Derek. God knows what he saw in his face as his eyes briefly displayed a look of sheer sadness and despair. Derek swallowed heavily, his hand loose and empty where it lay on the sheet between them. Stiles stared back, his throat working dryly. It was still so early but they were both wide awake now and there were no excuses to keep him here any longer if his mind was still made up. Derek barely dared to breathe as Stiles reached a hand to hold at Derek’s jaw, thumb soothing over the stubble on his jawline.

Stiles slowly leaned into his space, eyes roaming fast over his features before he pressed an unsteady kiss to his lips. He pressed there for a moment, a small dry kiss before pressing in again, the dryness broken this time by the saltiness of tears, whose, he wasn’t sure.

Stiles was shaking as he moved away and he pressed his lips together as he cleared his throat, “I love you Derek, I always will” he stated clearly, voice low and steady.

Derek watched him carefully as he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed to pull his shoes on. He didn’t move, didn’t try to pull on Stiles’ hand to get him back into bed, didn’t yell at him that if he really loved him, he would stay, work this out. No, he stayed motionless where he was. Stiles was saying goodbye, he knew that. The acknowledgement that they would always love each other was undeniable, but it was still as final a goodbye as two people could have.

Derek forced himself to watch, to watch Stiles zip up his hoodie, cuffs of his sleeve swiping at his eyes jerkily as he stooped to grab his bag. He watched that sure long line of his back as he stood at the door, a hesitation as his hand made to open it and he glanced back once to cast his eyes over the loft.

He met Derek’s eyes for a second and all Derek could see was darkness. Hopeless darkness. He clenched his eyes shut and the next time he opened them, Stiles was gone.

He rolled over so his back faced that traitorous door that had let his Stiles leave him. He tightened himself up as he began shaking and rocking, Stiles’ scent still filled his nose and the night had not been enough, could never have been enough to make this bearable.

His chest felt like it had turned concave, all the air sucked out of his lungs leaving him panting hollowly. He felt himself gasping for breath as he scrunched his eyes shut tight and bit his teeth together to try to stop the over-whelming suffocation as his entire internal world self-combusted in heart break. He thought he known love before but until this very moment, he realised he absolutely had not. It was a kind of pain that cut his legs down, scored deep into his heart and left his mind burning.

He lay there and gasped and time passed.

The sun made its steady way over his bed before sliding over the dusty floor and arching high up the walls painting the ceiling with a golden glow. Derek watched unseeing, eyes burned out and dry, all his tears gone.

He could hear life outside on the street, could hear birds calling as dusk drew in and watched as the stars slowly blinked back into view. He licked his dry lips, hugged his pillow close and carried on breathing.

He’d known pain, his life had been one long education in pain but it didn’t make it any easier to deal with when it felt like the very centre of his existence had been snuffed out. He thought mournfully of his cracked heart and imagined it to be some blackened piece of soot and ash, nothing left to patch up and start over with, he was done.

He slept and drifted and time passed. He gave up on trying to listen out for the heart beat that grounded him. Finally gave up on listening for a knock at the door and he cursed himself for holding onto hope like a fool.

He dreamt, dreamt of shining eyes and sparkling laughter as a soft hand clutched his own and he woke in anger, fists beating the bed below him as he screamed into his sheets in despair.

But it was ok. He was ok. He had done this before and knew how to do this.

He blew out that dangerous flickering flame of hope that was still trying so hard to stay alight and had betrayed him so badly time and time again.

He drew up the barricades around the broken pieces that were left of his heart to ensure it would stay sealed up and hidden, its foolish whims cut down for the final time.

He blanked his mind to stop the thoughts that could so easily cripple him and shut away the sweetness left lingering from Stiles’ very being into a box deeply submerged in his memories.

He drew the shutters down over his eyes to narrow his view of the world, he wouldn’t let any lightness or prettiness seep in again trying to bring him out to a place he didn’t belong.

Survival meant standing back up again and re-building his armour to be impenetrable and he almost heard the physical clang as he locked away the last lingering tendril of sadness and he stood, stood from his bed and walked with purpose. He may be empty and broken inside but maybe that added to his strength, his danger. After all a man who had nothing, had nothing he could be scared to lose.

His face was blank and severe as he concentrated on taking deep breaths in and out. He stalked across the loft in angry strides and avoided his gaze in the mirror as he tore his sweat drenched clothes off. In the shower he washed away the last of the evidence of the past few nightmarish days and emerged as strong and fierce as a soldier going into battle.

He felt invincible. The worst that could happen to a person had happened so what more could life really throw at him?

Whatever came next... well what the hell did he care?


End file.
